Mutually Assured Destruction
by All3Unforgivables
Summary: Reposted upon request; Katniss captures more than the Capital's intense interest as the lovely and talented "Girl on Fire" enters the 74th Games. Meet Peeta Mellark... Career Tribute to District One. Slightly Twisted/ Extremely OOC
1. Chapter 1

**This story of mine was published and taken down about a year and a half ago. Honestly, I'm going to try my best to get it done (as it was always meant to be a short and sweet fic) but in the last 2 years I got engaged, married, graduated from university, pregnant, now have a 4 month old baby boy ect. I barely have time to sleep and shower right now so bare with me. I'm so honored by all the love this twisted little tale has gotten. Please know that I only took it down because I didn't have the time for it and more and more people were reading it in my absence and I didn't want to disappoint even more readers than I already had (I also have a profile devoted to the Twilight fandom with extremely popular stories over there I've left them high and dry with). I'm reposting because of a review from TheShadowedKissedAngel, who very kindly wrote that she missed this story and wished that the existing chapters were still up for her to read. **

**So, here's to you TheShadowedKissedAngel, and everyone else that has given my writing a chance. I am deeply humbled. **

Disclaimer: All Hunger Games characters and core personality traits are the property of SC. I own nothing, nor do I plan on profiting from using her work. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Prologue; The Career**

The audience watched with rapt attention, not a soul able to look away from the handsome tribute. The boy, more man than anyone in the world could claim to be, exuded the most perplexing conundrum of vibes that had even the seasoned and unshakable Caesar Flickerman baffled in his handling of this particular interview.

Being able to recognize the young blonde as lethal was as easy as sensing death from the center of a swarm of Tracker Jackers, but he was more beautiful than any advanced Capital procedure could replicate. The boy had a smile that could lure even the flightiest of creatures to their demise.

Panem was in love in ways that put Finnick O'dair to shame.

"As of the latest figures, you have the highest odds out of the entire lot, my boy," Flickerman continued after sensationally witty introductions, grinning with that air of personal warmth he seemed to be capable of replicating no matter his company, "With chances like those, you must have already purchased your ticket home."

The audience giggled as a collective entity.

"I'm much more comfortable with action than I am planning, Caesar. I'll buy that ticket when I've earned it," the boy said humbly.

Not a single one of the other tributes believed a breath of that; not only his show of modest self-confidence but more importantly, the notion that he wasn't an absolutely master of strategy.

The blue-haired show host seemed genuinely taken in, patting the charming character's shoulder. "We're sure you will, we're sure you will…" he waved his hand and was instantly backed by the mass cries of reassurance and faith, "But when you have, my boy, what is it you want most from that bright future?"

It would ordinarily be a cruel question, considering the grand majority of the children to walk that stage hadn't a chance in hell at a future that didn't end in a painful and highly publicized death, but few held any doubt of this candidate's abilities and Caesar was able to take liberties.

The alpha male grew pensive for a moment, short enough to fit nicely into the brief interview allotment, then leaned into Flickerman as one would when sharing secret, "To be honest, I've always wanted a family."

Every womb in the audience ached simultaneously and women of all ages cooed at his sweetness. Most competitors from his district were machines so bent on killing that even faking a desire for such human urges was beyond them.

Flickerman placed a hand to his chest in a show of fighting back deep emotion, "Well none of us have any doubt you would be more than capable of protecting your brood," he flattered shamelessly, inciting laughter, "And I couldn't imagine anything short of a full line of young ladies vying for your affections. Do we have any special girl in particular out there rooting for you?"

The blonde smiled, surprisingly skilled at conveying wistfulness, "There's a girl out there, Caesar, the most beautiful in all the districts and braver than any of them combined. However, I can guarantee she isn't rooting for me."

The viewers gasped, sure that no girl in her right mind could possibly resist such a specimen of virile and masculinity. Already the flighty females of the Capital were prepared to leave their wealthy husbands for the district visitor should he so much as grace them with a glance in their direction.

Flickerman clucked with indignation on his companion's behalf, "I'll tell you what. You go out, and you win these games and I'm _sure_ you'll win her heart right along with them."

The boy's eyes flashed directly into the camera as the last seconds of his interview dwindled by, all of Panem privy to the unsettling ice-blue hue of a powerful predator and for a beat in time, it seemed as if the whole of the nation felt the chill of his intensity.

"Winning wont help me in this cause, I'm afraid. When I watched her sacrifice herself to save her sister I knew she was the one for me…

"I also knew I'd have to kill her."

The chime of the buzzer went unheard as the crowd dissolved into earsplitting peels of scandal and excitement at the confession of Peeta Mellark, career tribute from District One.

Behind the stage, Katniss' knees buckled with fear.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All Hunger Games characters and core personality traits are the property of SC. I own nothing, nor do I plan on profiting from using her work. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Chapter One**

Haymitch told her to keep away from the flawless devil at all costs, the opposite side of the arena, if she could manage it.

"If he comes after you, it's not because he wants to propose, _sweetheart_."

He needn't have bothered.

There were very few things that truly scared Katniss, and with her loved ones hidden safely away in District Twelve, that list was shorter still. Regardless, it was incredibly unnerving to know exactly how one was going to die; to walk along side the man who was sure to take her life. Mellark was her personal reaper.

She could feel cold blue eyes on her where ever she went.

Back at home, Katniss could feign illness so convincingly she'd have the most reputable of physicians—were such a thing to exist in Twelve—ready to write out her death certificate, in order to avoid the annual trip into the mines that enslaved her District. As fierce as the hardened female was thought to be, she was never too proud for avoidance.

So it was yet another testament to his abilities when he caught her alone in the elevator, shoving the poor, meek male tribute from her district out on his ass as if he were a stack of flour. She tried to dart out the rapidly closing doors, desperate as a hare in a fox den, but the brut of a boy shot his arm out in front of her before she'd even seen him move.

He was so strong, so incredibly _solid_, that the force of her own momentum momentarily knocked the breath out of her as she slammed into him.

"Where you going, girl on fire?" he crooned to her, voice as smooth and lovely as the rest of him.

If ever there were evidence that the wealthy District One had managed to get their paws on the Capitals technological advancement in human genetics, this perfect beast what as compelling proof as any.

Katniss tried her hardest not to show her fear but her much smaller frame shook with it. "You aren't allowed to touch me here, Career. They'll have you charged so fast your head will spin," she snapped viciously.

She hadn't realized she had instinctively back herself into a corner until his massive body was progressing towards her. The very air in the small, enclosed space seemed to dissipate as he pinned her to the wall.

"Now that's just not true, baby," he shook his head slowly, eyes sparkling with amusement, "I'm allowed to _touch_ you all I want. I just can't harm you… yet."

To make the distinction as clear as crystal, he brazenly slid his large hand between her thighs to cupped her sex. It had precious little protection under the thin, tight material they provided for training and he was the first person to ever feel her in this way. She gasped in a mixture of terror and foreign, immediate bliss as it rocked through her body.

"That feels good, doesn't it, Katniss? I'm _allowed_ to bring you pleasure," he purred down at the trapped girl, "If you'll let me."

His spell only coaxed a few seconds of submission out of her and she was quick to slap his hand away from her person. The agreeable sensation was gone right along with it and this left her nerves confused and wary.

"Over my dead body," she spat, angry with both the monster in front of her and herself for the moment of weakness. She longed for the basket case Cato, who would take the lone elevator ride to discretely snap her neck like a normal homicidal maniac.

This boy was infinitely more dangerous. This Career could turn her against _herself_ and to date, she had always been the only one she could depend on for survival.

He cocked his head in a gesture few would deny as playful, "I was rather hoping I'd get to enjoy you before that happened. I was even willing to make concessions…"

Like any prey animal facing death, Katniss was entirely distrustful but foolishly curious as to what he meant by that, hope being a heady poison, "Like I'd believe anything that came out of your mouth."

"Oh baby," Peeta grinned and brushed his fingers through her hair just to prove he could, "You don't have damn bit of choice, now do you? Listen to your mentor, try to stay away from me in the arena, Katniss. You'll find me extremely… persistent in my pursuit."

She believed him. At worst he'd have her running until her legs could no longer carry her, at best, she'd live a few days trapped high up in a tree before starvation forced her right down onto the tip of his spear.

"So I should just sit on my pedestal at the cornucopia and wait patiently for you to come and collect me?" her laugh was sharp and had the unfortunate ring of pre-hysteria.

His handsome face seemed genuinely uncomfortable at the suggestion, though he continued to pet her like a prized kitten, "_No_. That's no place for you. Find cover for a few hours. Wait until you hear the last of the cannons. _Then_ I'll come and collect you. I want the Girl on Fire with my careers."

Her mouth felt as though it had been stuffed with raw cotton but she managed to speak, "Right. Because if I somehow manage to get past my aversion to you, Cato and those two _shrinking violets_ are sure to welcome me with open arms."

The boy sneered with the first sign of real hostility he'd shown since trapping her in the tiny steel room. He pressed her body against the panel behind her with the unyielding length of his own. She felt his heated breath fan across the flesh of her neck and wondered if it was similar to the sensation one would feel in the seconds before a wolf tore into their jugular.

She could then hear pounding on the other side of the metal doors, could make out the familiar cursing of Haymitch as he threatened her abductor with a fate worse than any death one might face in the Games.

Still, he kept her pinned, too distracted or unconcerned to pay her rescue party any mind. Katniss could feel a thick bulge digging into her belly and was schooled enough in the basics of Anatomy to know what he was grinding gently against her.

Her face flamed like the fire that Capital all attributed to her.

"You don't think I'm capable of protecting what's mine?" he growled, his fingers wrapped around her slender throat in a fashion that was meant to warn, not harm.

"I don't belong to you, Career," the terrified female whispered softly, her instinct urging her away from the hostility she'd normally react with.

He kissed her then, the first she had ever experienced.

It wasn't the lip splitting plundering one would expect from a man who's life revolved around killing. It was tender but full of unmistakable ownership—_sweltering domination_—and didn't end until the moment the doors behind them were pried open.

She had to remember how to breath.

"I'll have you by my side or underneath me, Katniss Everdeen. _That_ choice is yours."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: All Hunger Games characters and core personality traits are the property of SC. I own nothing, nor do I plan on profiting from using her work. No copyright infringement is intended.

Again, not betaed.

**Chapter Three**

Katniss dutifully held a bag of ice to the large knot forming on the side of her mentor's head.

She was no great healer like her mother or Prim, but Effie had taken one look at the purpling wound before promptly fainting and the stubborn man hadn't allowed a single Capital attendant anywhere near him, so she was left to the task by default. Haymitch was still scathing from the incident but Katniss could sense that it was his pride that had taken the most painful of blows, not the alcohol ravaged brain that resided between his ears.

Had she not been so shaken, it might have been funny; Haymitch storming in to recue her and getting knocked out cold by the eighteen-year old career before he got a single syllable of threat out. He _had_ managed to get Mellark away from her—even if having him lightly reprimanded for assaulting a mentor hadn't been the original plan.

She snorted a laugh at the memory, unable to exert her usual level of control with such hopelessly rattled nerves, and was pinned with his famous, scornful glare.

"Yeah…real fuckin' funny, sweetheart. I'm sure the whole nation will get a little giggle when its _you_ he's beatin' on once the games start," Haymitch drawled.

The clever girl took no offense. District Twelve's mentor had been hard on her from the moment she stepped foot on the train to the main event. He was gentle with the boy tribute, kind even, and it took Katniss a few days to see the distinction for what it really was. Abernathy had already given the child up for dead. Like the behavior seen in so many species of wild animal, he had decided that humoring the weakest of his litter wasn't worth the attention it would divert from the youngling that had a lick of chance. He had more or less cast him aside to tend to the gem of the slums, the Capital's beloved Girl on Fire.

Haymitch showed her no mercy in exactly the same fashion the arena would deny it to her.

"Well come on," he insisted, pushing the icepack and her hand away from him, "What did the mutt have to say before you let him shove his whole god-damn tongue down your throat?"

This she _did_ take offense to, partly because it implied that she'd been an equal partner in the interaction with the uncompromising Career, but also because it called to inspection the few beats of time in which she _had_ willingly succumb to his force.

Her majestic eyes—the exact shade of the coal dust that coated her home district—flashed so intensely at the jab that even Haymitch squirmed in his seat.

"Nothing of consequence," she dismissed, finding the idea of rehashing Peeta's words both unnecessary and embarrassing.

Her mentor wouldn't allow the brush off, "Nothing any of them says to you at this point is without consequence," he growled at her, the exasperation of reasoning with a particularly stupid child, "There's more strategy to this than shooting squirrels out of their nut holes. If you haven't realized that by now-"

"He wants me to join his careers so he can fuck me," she interrupted, expression mild but tongue sharp, "If I don't wait for him after the slaughter at the cornucopia, his entire focus will be devoted to hunting me down."

The older man showed no reaction to blunt announcement that would have had Effie blushing red right through all those layers of makeup, but Katniss watched as he stood and poured a generous helping of the amber liquid he'd been cutting back on.

He handed it to her.

"And you don't think this is important, why?"

She was willing to bet Prim's goat that the first sip of his liquor put actual hair on her chest but she felt silly looking. "Not unimportant. It just doesn't change anything," she shrugged, "I'm not stronger than him but I know I'm faster."

"Irrelevant. You just landed yourself an ally," Haymitch corrected simply.

Katniss was sure she had misunderstood, "You have to be joking."

"Serious as a heart attack, sweetheart," he met her gaze evenly. As though the little sliver of confidence in winning she had lost back in that elevator had been transferred to him, his eyes glittered with it, "There's a reason the Careers win nine times out of ten. If you spend even the first half of the game in that alliance, you stand more of a chance than any of them."

"Assuming he doesn't kill me the moment he's in range," she argued what she considered to be a major hole in the plan. "It's a trick. And not even a tempting one! Those terms are hardl-"

"Now's not the time to guard that maidenhead, princess. You can negotiate that on your terms or his. If he wants it, he'll take it," he told her, a touch of sympathy she wished he'd forgo altogether.

Her brain tried to process his meaning but it stumbled and tripped around the truth, protective and unwilling. The Hunger Games were a pitch-black cloud on the already darkened sky of existence in the districts but that had never, in her recollection, been a part of their horrors.

"But he can't-," she murmured, "They wouldn't let him-"

Her mentor placed a comforting hand on her shoulder but didn't sugarcoat anything for her sake, "There are _no rules in the arena_, tribute Everdeen," he repeated a common sentiment, thus giving it new meaning, "You don't think the occasional _sick fuck _doesn't take advantage of that?"

She didn't want to believe him. She had always assumed that the worst the games could bring her was death. "But I've never seen that happen," she whispered.

"Of course you hadn't. The games are meant to disturb the districts, not entice. That footage is only for the Capital viewers," he informed bitterly, "If the game makers just wanted a good fight they'd throw district males into the arena and let the blood fall."

Katniss tried to figure out what this added element meant for _her_. She had no noted attachment to her chastity. It prevailed mostly out of lack of interest in the boys of Twelve than out of any conscious show of restraint on her behalf. Once in the weeks following the death of her father, when her little sister was starving in front of her very eyes, she had considered bartering this piece of herself to a Peacekeeper known for taking advantage of girls in such situations. Had she not been much younger than his usual tastes, she would have become one of these girls, she was sure.

This wasn't so different. This was still about survival.

"I'd still have to trust him," she shook head pitifully, resigned, "I don't want to trust anyone. Much less _him_."

"Katniss, you had the best personal training scores awarded to a tribute in three years. He's already set the _two_ of you up as the exclusive recipients of sponsor dollars should you do even a marginally convincing job of mutual affection. Get it out of your head that you aren't a commodity worth keeping alive because if you believe that… they will too."

He sat back and appraised her with pride, "Use him to get your hands on that bow, sweetheart. Then use _that_ to put an arrow through his eye like he's one of your squirrels."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: All Hunger Games characters and core personality traits are the property of SC. I own nothing, nor do I plan on profiting from using her work. No copyright infringement is intended.

Katniss had sixty seconds to adjust to a brightness so blinding, it could have been nothing but one of the many Capital-controlled features of the arena. The forest surrounding her was as familiar as an old friend, but that light… it wasn't natural.

The first thing she saw was the bow.

Jarring chimes that rang away their last moments of guarantied safety robbed her of her ability to orient herself and the deadly distance between her and the perfect, glinting equipment seemed entirely achievable.

Though both men had given her identical advice regarding participation in the initial slaughter, it was Peeta Mellark's voice that weeded into her head.

"_That's no place for you. Find cover for a few hours. Wait until you hear the last of the cannons. Then I'll come and collect you."_

Her shaky stance finally solidified with the wave of defiance his order brought out in her. Of course he wouldn't want her to have an opportunity to find her weapon of choice. He wanted her defenseless, dependant, and easy to kill when she had served her purpose. Should she have the hunting set from the very beginning, she'd have no need for an alliance with the Capital's pet districts.

It was this logic of duress which sent her sprinting into the most volatile showdown of the games the second the invisible mines surrounding her were deactivated. The resourceful young woman was no stranger to life or death decisions, but this was the first time she felt her existence so acutely in peril. She could battle through starvation with a remarkable lust to persevere but one of Cloves' knives thrust through her brain would end her before she even knew it was coming.

The finality of such a fate left her pallet dry with dread.

Katniss was still yards away from her intended target when she realized her mistake. The prize she had her heart set on, arrows that would kill without the risk of close proximity, were much closer to the center of the field than the destinations of some of her fellow tributes and she wasn't nearly the fastest runner present.

By the time she was closing in on her beckon, killing was all around her.

Unable to look away, she watched Cato—whom favored a specific sword but had not been able to control his suppressed blood lust long enough to bother searching it out—push a smaller girl from Nine to the dirt at his feet and stomped her head into the ground with nothing but the standard issue boots.

Katniss' gut rolled violently, her system stocked by the sight.

When she was finally able to pull her eyes away from the girl's broken face, they locked right onto the large, volatile hunter looming above the dying body. The district Twelve female fretted internally over the unimpressive distance between her and Two's practiced killer.

Cato assessed her lazily, unbothered by the crimson liquid spraying up at his pant legs in weakening bursts.

She was sure she was going to die then, the impossibility of out fighting such a predator with no advantage or edge perforating her awareness. He lend forward slightly, teasing her with a movement that feigned advancement. Some innate, rodent like instinct told her that turning and running would only trigger his urge to chase. Her muscles ached with the effort of holding her ground.

A gleaming set of white teeth flashed across his face at the open show of defiance. It conveyed an indulgent sort of amusement as well the healthy measure of malice that seemed omnipresent in the male's aura.

Though just as physically formidable, it was Mellark's ability to suppress his air of danger that made him a true killer. Katniss could never be charmed into forgetting Cato's particular brand of aggression.

"Hm," he mused, his tenor unhurried despite the carnage surrounding him, "Maybe he's right about you," his smile widened to the point of gleeful insanity, "No harm in keeping you around. Plenty of other targets to keep the fun going...

_Duck_."

This last word was said as causally as any that had came before it and was awarded no special emphases. It was not the warning at all, rather, the small throwing knife he pulled from his pocket and sent flying as fast as any bullet, that had Katniss spinning out of her inhabited air space a moment before it was due to pierce her throat.

For an instant, she was sure she had been the intended target.

Then she felt the mist of warmth coat the back of her neck.

The body hadn't even hit the ground by the time she had worked up the courage to turn her head, but stood frozen and gaunt with bright red flowing relentlessly from the base of Cato's blade. The weapon had lodge square between the boy's eyes but Katniss was still easily able to recognize her fellow tribute.

She stumbled forward to catch his slight weight just as his lifeless muscles stopped supporting his frame.

Her chest heaved out a little sob as she realized he was already dead, so immediately distraught that she paid no attention to her own safety as Cato gated over to the District Twelve's twosome on the blood covered ground.

"He was just a fucking kid," she hissed up at him.

His features—which had held an expression that closely replicated a proud, loyal golden retriever whom had just properly retrieved the master's newspaper—melted into confusion, then irritation. "Are you kidding me, Everdeen? Look again."

Her grey eyes followed his to the boy's hand, fingers clenched as tightly as death around a poised hunting knife.

"He was _right_ behind you, about to gut you like a fish, _Kitty Kat_," Cato barked out a laugh unbefitting the topic. "Had more gull than I ever would have given him credit for. That's one way to make sure your mentor took him seriously."

Understanding trickled in slowly as she clung to the bleeding child that had been desperate enough to kill her in an attempt to strength his chances of returning home to their district.

She gazed down at his tiny hand, the unfamiliar way he griped the blade, how his terrified hold was so tight he had cut open the inside of his own small fingers, and knew she couldn't blame him for his failed attempt at her life.

Her vision blurred as the salted, metallic smell of his essence hit her. She could imagine nothing but Prim's sliced palms in place of the boy's.

At the very cusp of consciousness, just as the petrifying scene around her was turning black to shield her mind while forsaking her body, she felt a pair of huge arms pull her away from her dead companion.

"_I fucking told you this wasn't for you, baby, didn't I?" _


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: All Hunger Games characters and core personality traits are the property of SC. I own nothing, nor do I plan on profiting from using her work. No copyright infringement is intended.

Katniss felt like a possum.

She had never before experienced anything like the rush of alarm and confusion that flooded her mind; the flashing of images and burning questions. Still, she didn't dare open her eyes or so much as twitch even the smallest of her panicky muscles. The girl instead laid as limp and lifeless as the rodent her and Gale had once dubbed "the coward of the forest". Hardly the mighty warrior Haymitch had believed he was sending into the games.

She knew nothing.

Upon regaining consciousness, the fallen tribute couldn't even begin to guess where she was, who was near or how much time had passed since she'd acquired her last haunting memory. Katniss could not say immediately whether she was intact or irreparably injured, as her mental state was accompanied by frustrating physical numbness.

She wasn't even sure she was still alive.

Blessedly, the longer she dwelled there the more awareness the intelligent contender was able to gather about her current situation.

For one, she was most definitely not where she'd been when her brain had systematically shut down. Her body was no longer on the hard leaf and blood littered forest floor that was the cornucopia field she had dropped to with her would-have-been assassin. In fact, she found herself nested in so much comfort and warmth that she was very nearly able to convince herself it had all been a dream. That she was in bed, in her terrible—wonderful—home back in Twelve, fighting away the reality of a new day's chores.

That sweet notion was dismissed as instantly as it had occurred to her. The burlap and clothe remnant mattress she shared with her beloved sister Prim had never felt this soft or luxurious beneath her, not even after a brutal week of hunting and hunger.

The light of day appeared dim through her clenched eyelids, much weaker than the beams from the beating sun that had shined brightly upon the Game's immediate slaughter.

Wherever she was, she had been placed there. Thus her commitment to imitating a corpse was fooling no one.

"_Is Her Highness still enjoying her nap_?"

The sneer came from far too close and was distinctly feminine. But it was the chilling ring of loathing in the speaker's voice that caused Katniss' pulse to force enough blood into her head to nearly knock her out cold a second time.

She'd heard it before, though grossly distorted, sweet and charming as Shimmer from Direct One had given her interview with Flickerman. It held no such playfulness now and Katniss felt that the heat of the busty blonde's hate alone might burn her.

Her obvious defenselessness was setting in when an impossibly more lethal tenor announced itself in her proximity.

"I'm going to have to kill you eventually, subordinate. Please… continue to assure I find it a gratifying experience."

She needn't open her eyes to know without doubt that Mellark was looming directly over her.

His existence inside her personal bubble of space shocked her to her core. She was sure she had been intensely hyper-aware of her surroundings, was a skilled hunter who's life and family depended on her ability to spot even the smallest movement, hear even the tiniest rustle in the distance. Pathetically, she hadn't the slightest idea of the deadly predator perched within inches of her resting, vulnerable body.

The boy was like nothing she could have even imagined. Katniss pictured him in a huge, institutional facility in district one; training for hours and hours in the art of becoming entirely inanimate. The machine-like male would tone and master his body to the point of inhuman control; would ignore every ache, every itch... would require less air than even the best of district four's graceful ocean divers. He'd spill one's blood before they even had the vaguest idea they were not alone.

He was bred to kill. He lived for it.

Katniss bit back her fear, kept still, and reminded herself that she was bred to survive. And she was only alive because of it.

"She's a joke, Peeta. She'll only hold us back," Shimmer hissed from a comparably safer distance. She had an accent that was very faintly Capital and equally foreign to Katniss, who wondered if district One was divided by separate social classes like Twelve was. Mellark carried no such variation in his smooth pronunciation.

"Already we could have hunted out half the arena but here we sit...guarding your pet as the rats scurry further and further away, finding cover and safety for a night they never should have seen."

Mellark laughed, a sound just as breathtakingly elegant as it was laced with barely suppressed irritation. "And you'd do what, _toss_ one of those arrows at them? I've seen you use that bow you've chosen for yourself, " he seemed to taunt, "rest for the night. You clearly aren't killing anyone alone."

The black haired female winced inside of herself. She knew she hadn't successfully obtained _her_ weapon but it landing in Shimmer's talons was a heavy blow. Katniss made a solid mental note of Peeta's words, and briefly wondered if they had been meant for her ears.

"Better in less skilled hands than her filth-"

A soft, dangerous growl admitted from the back of the male's throat, every bit as feral as the occasional wolf Katniss had been unlucky enough to encounter in her woods but _just_ fast enough to escape.

Both women trembled at the guttural warning, and even though his counterpart continued, her tone was palatably more docile.

Shimmer's voice made it clear that she was not exempt from Mellark's scorn, "Be reasonable. I won't allow you the mistake of bring a wild card into our ranks and arming her to the teeth."

"If I planned to give her the bow, you wouldn't be holding it right now," he said simply. "Now leave us. Go watch our supplies before our _allies_ squirrel away all the food."

The space around them seemed to heat with Shimmer's obvious rage at being dismissed but Katniss was only partially aware because it was at that moment that the career male began to gently, sensuously run the tips of his fingers over the exposed flesh of her collarbone.

She wasn't sure if the gesture was genuine in his intention or if it had been meant to further infuriate the gorgeous other woman. Irrespective of his motive, he left a trail of fire across every inch he touched and she was wholly unable to suppress a tremor of instinctual reaction.

Any hope of him having not noticed it was dismissed by a deep, indulgent snicker.

"Such risk and burden for a play-thing?" Shimmer fumed, her voice advancing closer.

Having no reason left to continue her half-baked show, the Seam beauty open her eyes and met instantly with Shimmer's violent stormy blues. The adjustment to the dim light helped her keep an unbothered, half-lidded gaze that was nearly shattered to pieces when she noticed the female Career's perfect features were splattered with dried blood. She glanced slowly up and down the length of her adversary and did all she could to mask the feelings of complete inadequacy. Even drenched in gore, Shimmer was breathtaking.

The blonde's pale skin bloomed with a crimson hue, so enraged by the lack of fear or recognition that her hand moved instinctively to a hunting knife on her belt.

Mellark barked out another laugh, seemingly delighted at the quick exchange, and ran his fingers through Katniss' hair approvingly. She felt every bit the indulged pet she was accused of being but forced back anything but acceptance of his protection.

For all of Shimmer's top dollar training, Katniss, in that single moment, saw in her something she had seen from many of her school mates, petty girls whom had reject her over the more attractive features she'd inherited from her comely mother. Only thinly veiled in those navy eyes was a very human glint of good old fashion feminine jealously.

She heard Haymitch's advice in her head as she sat up, unhurried, and leaned her body lazily against her tenuous guardian. If Mellark's interest meant his protection, and the Capital's interest meant their sponsorship, she just might survive the first portion of the games without her bow.

Shimmer, as alluring as any creature Katniss had ever seen, looked between the twosome before addressing Peeta evenly. Her curvy posture melted into a suggestion in and of itself.

"You don't have to settle, Peeta. You know this? I can take care you myself and we can do any with the degenerates all together," she purred.

Mellark didn't bother taking his eyes off his co-operating hostage as he responded coldly, "If I wanted a barren, venomous, pain in the ass, I would have taken you when the rest of our district was passing you around."

For the first time, Katniss second guessed whether Mellark would take her life in these games. It suddenly seemed much more likely that another member of District One would beat him to it.


	6. Chapter 6

"That was the very pinnacle of foolishness…What you did out there," Mellark intoned, a mixture of banter and foul temper ringing through his deep, controlled voice.

It had been countless silent minutes since Shimmer had made a furious exit from what Katniss knew now was the inner most corner of the large metal cornucopia, an intelligent makeshift shelter. She guessed that Peeta was purposefully allowing the tension to build until it felt thick enough to replace any and all breathable air—and like most endeavors of the skilled career—he was unbearably successful in this regard. She hadn't a fraction of the nerve needed to actually look at the terrifying alpha male, even as he continued his possessive caresses across her neck and collar.

Instead she spied carefully around, taking in as much of the field of vision available to her without the actual movement of shifting her head. A bank of supplies and weapons lined the walls of their resting place; swords, knives, survival blankets and the like. Her head span, unable to ascertain whether her proximity to such deadly objects was a blessing or a life-threatening risk.

Never in her thousands of miserable musings about The Games, all the darkest "what-ifs" that district children mull unwilling over in their heads, had she ever imagined herself in her current situation. Tributes from lowly districts like 12 simply did not belong in the belly of the battle, the proud and comfortable territories that were quickly claimed by the districts of privilege and talent. When the impoverished, sickly kids from districts like hers managed to make it anywhere near the finial days of the competitions—a shocking rarity—it was always chance and avoidance that kept them alive.

On those petrifying occasions she'd pictured herself being called up into The Games and those tense nights she spent discussing strategy with Gale, the timid creature had always planed to play her luck as a dangerous fly on the arenas outskirts, invisible and mostly passive.

She wasn't prepared to take on The Games as a hunter instead of a prey item. She wasn't prepared for Peeta Mellark.

Her unspoken refusal to look at him was clearly not appreciated and his long, warm fingers snaked firmly around her throat and forced her gaze to meet his own. Katniss nearly slammed her eyes shut in response. The boy's face was so painfully striking that every corner of her mind rebelled against her desire to fear, to hate. It was yet another unfair advantage of a pristine killer; to see him, was to love him.

Katniss had a vague awareness of how difficult that particular predatory camouflage would be to defend her self against. She took some solace in the fact that she came from a community so desperate for basic survival that beauty was seen as a generally frivolous and unhelpful attribute.

"What were you thinking?" He demanded, more heat this time.

She still hadn't decided on a strategy for interactions with her unlikely ally, what approach would yield the maxim degree of safety, but she was positively _alarmed_ by the feelings of remorse that hit her when she realized she had displeased him, how something inside her innately disliked the slight crease of anxiety that appeared between two flawless honey toned brows.

Her own emotions sparked anger into her response. "I'm so helpless and confused that I ran into the fight instead of away from it," she snapped, "Honest mistake of the feeble minded."

She shrunk back minutely at his answering grin, sly and dangerous. His pale blue eyes flicked down at her lips and he moved his hand up her face until his thumb ran tenderly across the soft pink flesh there. The conflicted female trembled and prayed he hadn't noticed.

"I have so many more productive uses for that smart mouth of yours," Peeta leaned in to whisper. His breath faned out across her face. "And you nearly went and ruined my fun by getting yourself killed in the first three minutes of The Games."

A feeling heavy as lead seeped into Katniss' muscles as she remembered the moments that had almost been her last. How easy it had been for her to nearly ruin everything in the very first seconds of her long journey to survival. The corners of her eyes stung at the idea of having let her mother and Prim down in such a horrifyingly quick manner. Little Prim, sweet and in a constant state of rose-colored optimism, who she was sure still believed Katniss would be coming home alive. Peeta's too-true crack at her immediate failure made the cold reality of leaving her loved ones alone in the hash world feel all the more likely and imminent.

Gale had promised her that he wouldn't let them starve, but promises were hard to keep in District 12, no matter how strong the conviction with which they were made. Katniss knew Gale would one day want a family of his own and knew respectfully who he would feed if made to choose between his own wife and children or the family of his long dead friend.

The Seam beauty watched the career's curious face, so close to her own, as he studied her carefully and was mortified when her vision began to blur with tears. The pinned female tried hard to jerk her jaw from his hold but he allowed her nothing. She instead closed her eyes tight and tried not to care when the pressure of her lids forced hot tears down her face.

The boy I let out a sigh and leaned his forehead against her own. The sound held an essence of exasperation but he smoothed his hands across her cheeks, wiping away the wetness and holding her face between his large palms like it was something insanely precious to him.

He murmured into her hair, his posture as affectionate as the most devoted of lovers, "I know you're scared-"

"I'm not scared," she lied stupidly.

Mellark ignored her. "and I know you don't belong here. You need to listen to me. In The Arena every single mistake you make can mean death."

"I _know_ that! But what if _you_ are my next mistake?" She fixed him with unfathomable grey eyes, "I can't trust you. I have no reason to trust you and every reason not to."

He lifted a brow but did not look offended. "I've already saved your life once. Twice, if you count Shimmer trying to slither in here to kill you as you slept."

"Cato-"

"Would have cheerfully slaughtered you like a pig had I not claimed you as my own." He interrupted, and this time he _did_ sound offended that she had tried to give credit where credit was undo. "Make no mistake, Girl on Fire. Sparing your life was a gift to me in order to secure an alliance between district 1 and 2."

Peeta moved away, kissing the tip of her nose playfully but releasing his intimate hold. He plopped himself onto the bedding beside her. The immaculately built boy stretched his long limbs like a lithe jungle cat and she watched the powerful muscles in his huge arms strain and relax under the pale skin. He could undoubtably kill her at that very moment with nothing but his dominant strength. The fact that he had to not only allowed her to live but had chosen to protect her against the accord of his own alliance was a fact that Katniss could not overlook.

She swallowed hard.

"Thank you," She stammered out words that seemed inadequate.

Peeta chuckled and his eyes sparkled up at her with humor, "It wasn't a charitable act, baby. I expect payment."

The district 12 competitor already knew this. She dropped his gaze and blushed pink from chin to hairline.

He laughed again but raised himself on his forearms and his expression became earnest. "Your body isn't the only thing I need you to give me, Katniss. You are a beauty worth protecting and I can hardly wait to have you but that wont keep either of us alive."

She braced herself, unsure if she still had more to give. Her heart, her dignity, her humanity all seemed long lost, stripped away and left behind in District 12.

"I want your loyalty," he commanded,"I want the integrity of the girl who volunteered for death without a second's hesitation to spare her sister. I want someone to protect with my life that will offer me the same, at least until we must inevitably face each other. And in the end, I want to be left with a single competitor that I feel deserves life as much as I do."

Despite her best intentions, Katniss began to hope. "You'll take me to the end?" She questioned, ignoring the impossibility of besting him in the event she did manage to survive that long. She'd have to beat him with or without his help so the point was moot.

He nodded and gestured to the room around them with a wave, the space full of objects that could preserve a tribute's life or end it. "I will give you everything in my power to provide," the same hand landed on the inside of her thigh and forced a breathless gasp from between her pursed lips. "I'll keep you safe and make you feel so fucking good, baby."

She remembered his kiss in the elevator-though she had tried write it off as unimportant-and how it had awaken something inside her that she had previously believed was missing from her essential genetic make-up. Katniss felt a heat in her belly and a quickness in her chest, feminine sensations she once thought petty when whispered about by gossiping girls in her school.

She wondered, now that she knew she was capable of such feelings, why she did not experienced them for Gale as all the other females in her district seemed to. Surely there was something wrong with her if she was coming into a sexual awakening for a trained murderer instead of her handsome companion.

"Would you like that, love?" He asked quietly. "Are you going to play nice for me?"

Katniss found herself nodding before she'd given herself permission to do so.

Peeta sat up to loom over her, his size the most potent reminder of the disparity between the two competitors.

"But don't you forget this, Tribute Everdeen; in this arena we are not equals. You belong to me and you _will_ prove that you are worth my time and effort," his every word rang with finality, and she believed him. "If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to kill, you kill. If I tell you to lay down and look lovely underneath me, you'll give me a pretty smile, spread these gorgeous legs for me, and do as I say."

...And for fuck's sake, if I tell you find a safe place and wait for me you better fucking do it next time or I swear I will track you down and kill you myself."


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry for the long wait, again. I'll make it through this story but probably slower than I'd like. Thank you for being patient and giving my story a chance.

Small note, I replaced a random district no-name and kept Marvel as a character even though Peeta replaced his actual spot in the story. Wanted to utilize a character instead of developing one from scratch. Hope you guys don't mind.

Someone brought it to my attention that the correct name for the district one female is Glimmer, not Shimmer. Apparently I remembered that she was shinny, but not her actual name. Sorry about this! I'm going to try to go through and fix it when I find time.

oOoOoOo

"What can you do?" Peeta questioned her with continued authority, all business as he pushed himself off the mattress and walked towards the expansive wall of weapons.

He snatch a spiked mace off its hook and tossed it from hand to hand, as if to measure its balance, before swinging it in long, controlled circles. His movements gave no indication of struggle but the hard ropes of muscle twisted across his arms, straining the fabric of his Capital issued uniform. Katniss was realistically unsure if she had the strength needed to so much as lift the object an inch off the ground.

"So impractical... The things they come up with," Mellark let it fall to the concrete floor with a heavy, hallow thud, giving her a half grin and a raised brow, "Stripped of your bow, where do your talents lie?"

Katniss scuttled up against the wall that backed their bed and pulled her legs to her chest in a tight, secure ball. The very question made her anxious. Her answer seemed simple...

"I don't have any," she barked out before recognizing it as a mistake. Haymitch had made it so clear that she needed to have confidence in herself as a firm prerequisite to convincing anyone worth allying with that she was more useful alive than dead, but it was so difficult to feel competent after her Earth-shatteringly poor first encounter with the slaughter she was meant to be an eager contributor to. "I-I can hide easily... I can go a long time without eating," she stammered on.

The older boy appeared no more impressed or pleased with her answers than she was. "Careers aren't defensive players," he informed her dryly. Peeta gave her small, unimposing posture a hard look, one she couldn't quite place, "And as long as I'm alive, you will _not_ go without food," he added, voice thick with what sounded for all the world like a genuine vow to protect.

Somewhere out there, Capital woman were fawning over the deadly Casanova, Katniss noted.

The large tribute paced back across the room and knelt by her side, causing the female's heart beat to quicken in direct relation to his nearness. She wondered, if even the games went on for weeks with the two fighting side by side, if she'd ever reach the point of not expecting him to kill her each time he approached.

She desperately hoped not.

Katniss stayed still as stone as he reached for the tail of her trademark braided hair and plucked the tie off gently. Surprisingly nimble, strong fingers worked the trained locks out of their organized embrace until they were completely separated waves of mahogany.

When he was done, he sat back on his calves and let out an almost unwilling groan.

"You're breath taking," he murmured, blue eyes so pure in color that they appeared impossibly illuminated as he examined her newly framed face.

She peaked up at him carefully, very much wanting to tuck her wild curls back into submission. "I don't care much for wearing it down," the quasi-tom boy commented, even though she was sure her opinion on the subject held little consequence, "It's always falling into my eyes. It's not a practical style for us in the labor districts."

Katniss didn't add the uncomfortable way Gale looked at her the few times she had worn her hair free; similar to the stare Peeta currently pinned her with but which held a great deal more shame; lust and confusion.

As suspected, he looked unconcerned, busy soaking in the beauty she could never quite recognize in herself, even as she admired its brilliance in her mother and sister.

"It stays down from now on. You aren't part of that anymore," he commanded simply, reaching into its thickness and soothing the slightly stinging scalp underneath. Katniss leaned into his touch, weary when she realized she did it not for the cameras or the alliance but because his warmth felt, uncomprehendingly, like balm on her shattered psyche. "You look older, less innocent, without the braid. Cato and the others are very visual animals. Appearances are important."

She nodded slowly in understanding.

"Good, baby," he crooned, "now that your stylists' tortuous primping isn't stopping the flow of blood to your brain, let's try again... What can you do for me, Girl on Fire."

The Seem tribute looked up at him and for once, managed to pull strength from his steady, fixed stare. She allowed herself to imagine what would please the gorgeous murderer that was offering her lodgings under his encompassing, dark wing.

She turned and studied the wall of supplies again, purposeful instead of petrified. Her attention glossed over the line of impressive, treacherous blades; heavy and sharp and ever so personal. Those objects were for Cato, who enjoyed to watch closely as the life drifted out of the eyes of his hapless victims... who reveled in the warmth of someone else's blood on his skin.

The throwing knives triggered more of her interest but were a particularly specialized weapon. Having never practiced with them, one could not simply pick up and toss the artfully weighted daggers and expect them to inflict much more damage on an opponent than an equally heavy rock. She'd leave those to Clove and Shimmer and watch her back accordingly.

In the very corner, as if an after thought, the game makers had placed various ropes, weights and pulleys. She was no where near Gale's level, but Katniss had a notable talent with which to make use of these blessed resources and for a moment, she felt capable.

"I'm a hunter," she managed more confidently. "Without my bow, I can still trap and track."

His satisfaction in her response started as a conspiratorial smirk and spread slowly into a white toothed, dimple-exposing beam. The Career leaned in and cupped her cheek softly. "That's the best news I've heard in a long time, baby."

Katniss' grey eyes widened at his overly affirmative reaction and positively popped when he jumped quickly to his feet and immediately pulled her up as well. She was on shaky legs and struggling for her bearings before she could even process the questions his actions raised.

The immaculately modeled boy steadied her with care that only slightly countered the disconcerting ease in which he manipulated her body. The independent young woman hadn't felt so physically inadequate since she was a child.

"Where are we going?" she demanded desperately as he placed a large palm across the swell of her back and guided her toward the entrance of the cornucopia.

Surely she hadn't thought she would be allowed to hide in its faux protection for the duration of the games but she most certainly felt unfit to leave it so soon and with such little consideration. She attempted to dig her heels into the ground but the futility in doing so was almost humorous. He stopped on his own accord and bent to address her quietly.

"As much as I'd love to spend the rest of our evening alone-," Peeta stroked his hands sensuously along her slim rib cage and his eyes danced in response to her subtle quiver, "Even we have to prove our worth unless we want to take on the rest of our alliance single handedly. Frankly, I don't like our odds."

Peeta gave the reluctant female a small nudge from the final cover of their claimed quarters-like a hopeful mother bird pushing a chick from the nest with expectations of flight-and stepped out half a length behind her as a single entity. She used every ounce of her bravery to fix her face into an impassive mask.

The scene of the worst horrors Katniss had witnessed in her short life was virtually unrecognizable.

The killing field had been transformed into a jovially camp ground. The broken bodies of her fellow tributes had been replaced with small tents and mounds of sorted supplies. Day light was fading quickly but someone had built up a textbook perfect fire and the smell of cooked food replaced the metallic sent of far too much spilt blood.

There was no sense of relief. She wasn't sure which version she found more disturbing.

Cato turned from his tendings at the fire's edge, the first to notice their appearance. The attractive psychopath gave them an unsettling Cheshire Cat grin and held up a sting of prepped meat like an invitation.

"Mellark, Kitten-," he waved his hand in gesture to his erected empire, "Welcome to the land of the temporarily living."

Cato and the ebony haired, small girl to his right cackled at his own joke. The careers were characteristically high spirited for the first length of the games almost every year Katniss had watched. In excellent strategical position and adrenaline filled from the fruition of killings they had trained their whole lives for, they typically enjoyed the arena until numbers dwindled and they had to turn on each other.

"Don't call her that," Peeta growled in halfhearted annoyance, once again pushing his companion further into the scorpion's den.

Cato ignored the comment and zeroed in on Katniss' reluctant gate. When Peeta had warned about the Careers being visual, his message would have been better served by specifying that they were intensely perceptive.

"What's wrong, kitten?" the district 2 male continued, looking her over with intentional lewd interest, "I don't bite unless you're into that sort of thing. Can't say all that lovely hair you've been hiding doesn't make me want to get a nip in-" he and Clove dissolved into another round of guffaws.

Peeta Mellark released a sound that reverberated through the clearing like a dog's snarl, instantly silencing the couple. They might have been spirited and rabid with power but their was still an indisputable pecking order and once they realized their Alpha was not a participant in the fun there was a visible straightening of spines as they stepped back in line.

"I won't warn you again, Tribute Two," Peeta venomously curled his words around the number, a reminder of rank. He was not only the larger of the males, but also a stand out favorite of the Capital. "She's mine. In every way."

Katniss knew what he meant by that; his to touch and his to kill. Still, she clung to him, trying to comprehend how a relationship with the most talented threat in the entire Arena could possibly mean safety. How long could a gazelle live in the company of a lion? Until he tired of the burden? Until he himself grew hungry?

"What are our current numbers?" Peeta demanded, sensing the girl's fear and endeavoring to redirect the focus.

He sat himself across the blaze from the others and pulled Katniss down onto his lap. Reaching his hand out without comment, Clove offered him a ration of meat that he in turn forced into Katniss' hands. The smaller female watched the coddling with sharp, narrowed eyes; though she held none of the overwhelming disapproval that had boiled within Glimmer.

Cato's playfulness melted away and he locked into a report styled in a fashion that demonstrated his training, "Bellowed desired. 8 dead. Female 3. Male 4. Male 5. Male and female 6. Male and female 8. Male 12. We chased our target into the lake a mile south before he lost us."

"Who was your target?" Katniss asked, daring only an attempt to keep her stomach from churning at the thought of consuming food while the ending of lives was trivialized in numbers. Faces ran through her mind and her thoughts went out to the eight devastated families across Panem.

"The district 11 male," Clove answered, "He's formidable. His scores were concerning. We had hoped to eliminate the threat before he had an opportunity to establish himself in the arena."

"We hadn't anticipated losing our leader so quickly," Glimmer's feline hiss proceeded her appearance from inside one of the near by tents. She had used the time since leaving the cornucopia dwelling to clean her face of her victim's blood but the sour twist to her red lips kept her looking no less sinister.

A tall, dark featured boy followed her out of the pop-up shelter and Katniss felt Peeta's body coil like a spring underneath her. She recognized the male tribute from distinct three, a district that was included in the Career alliance more often than not. If it hadn't been for Peeta's instantaneous tension, she wouldn't have been surprised to see the talented spear thrower accepted into the group.

"What is he doing here?" He snapped in a tone so cold that it iced over any warmth that might have been offered by the healthy fire.

"Marvel, district-" the new comer started.

Peeta's attractive face twisted with fury, and even Cato looked around uncomfortably, "Three, subordinate. I know who you are, but not why you are alive..."

No one looked particularly eager to vouch for the endangered outcast so after a beat of silence, he spoke up for himself. The lanky boy preened bravely, "I have ideas... I can contribute."

"My alliance is already set," the leader growled.

For a moment, Katniss was sure she was about to witness the intruders death, right then and there, but instead of standing for a fight Peeta wrapped his arms more securely around her. Marvel looked tense and pale, clearly also unsure of his life expectancy. Part of her worried for him but another corner of her mind acknowledged something not quite savory about the lone district three survivor, a calculated cruelty in him that was hidden more gracefully than Cato's.

Glimmer sashayed to Marvel's side and placed a delicate, stiletto nailed hand on his shoulder. "He has excellent skills..." She paused for effect and smirked wickedly, "with explosives. He's already started excavating the podium mines and can reactivate them for base protection."

Peeta looked even less accepting at his district mate's words, "Engaging him was not your call to make."

Cato bounced to his feet, "He's right," he announced, "Your call, Mellark. If you want him dead, I'll take care of it right now." The blonde offered with no more emotional empathy than one would volunteer to complete a chore, pulling a knife long enough to disembowel a deer from a belt sheath.

Marvel's light skin bleached of color entirely and he glanced around for a chance at life but seemed to realize too late that he was out armed and out numbered. He looked imploringly to Glimmer but she only shrugged and stepped back away from him, unblocking access.

"_Please_... I can protect the supplies. I can help in the hunt. Just let me prove myself!"

Katniss' whole body began to tremble uncontrollably. Her vision of was spotting again, unwilling and incapable of watching as a human being was butchered with a hunting blade while she was meant to be eating dinner.

She tried to care about herself and her family more, tried rationalize what was about to happen as the reality of the games. Only one could live. Only one. Allowing her rejection of this type of behavior would raise contempt with the others and continuing her propensity for passing out at the sight of killing would only prove her weak and useless to the Careers.

But killing wasn't in her blood and would never be common place to her.

Escaping the current situation in the only way she could think of, Katniss turner her face from the scene and buried her nose into the nape of Peeta's neck. She pressed her lips against the minutely stubbled skin of his Adam's apple. It wasn't a kiss, but it would certainly appear to be to anyone else. Though she had anticipated the benefit of a visual shield, she didn't expect the calm that his clean, masculine scent would induced in her. She breathed deeply and tried to think of nothing else.

The man beneath her frozen in surprise for a few beats in time before validating her by reaching up and caressing her hair, holding her tightly against his chest.

Glimmer's small scoff reached Katniss' ears but it didn't unnerve her a fraction as badly as Marvel's pleases. "I'm sorry, are we _boring_ you?" The gorgeous female demanded.

Peeta laughed out a rich, wonderful sound and kissed the top of Katniss' head fondly. "What do you think, love?" he asked for all to hear. "Is he worth his rations?"

"She is _not_ in charge here!" Glimmer shrieked, furious.

Again her countryman spared her not even a glance, keeping his gaze on the beauty in his arms, "Of course she isn't. But I am, and I'd like to know what Katniss' opinion on the matter is."

Peering up into the calculated set of his eyes, the forced nonchalance, Katniss saw the life line for what it was. He knew well that she didn't have it in her to sentence someone to death and by permitting her to stop the killing, he was allowing her to avoid the terrible scene that might have exposed her short comings. His first uncontrolled reaction told her that, had it been his choice, The Capital hover craft would already be coming to retrieve Marvel's body.

She swallowed hard and tried to appear as if she were mulling the decision over. "Land minds could be a great advantage..." She reasoned like her choice was strategic, "We could even bait them. They'd be low risk, no contact kills. Possibly a chance to best Thresh without direct combat."

Cato and Clove shared a glance that looked mildly interested. Glimmer opened her mouth as if to argue before snapping it shut again, unable to dispute someone that had already taken her side.

"Yes, of course!" Marvel interjected, "The male from 11 isn't an issue. I'll take him out myself."

Peeta still seemed reluctant and his mouth set with distaste, "I'm going to hold you to that," he took hold of Katniss' chin and guided her face up for a quick, indulgent kiss, "I hope you can recognize a life debt, Tribute three. My other half is much more tolerant than I."

The spared boy nodded his head in a submissive bow toward the sovereign couple, "Thank you, Tribute Everdeen. I will not forget your mercy."

Despite his words, Katniss heeded the rigidity in Peeta's posture and decided the new member of the alliance was not to be trusted; even less so than Cato, apparently, which she found alarming.

Peeta Mellark turned his attention from Marvel altogether and gestured to Katniss' forgotten meal.

"Eat, love," he ordered sternly. "You'll need your strength. You're leading our hunt tonight."


End file.
